January 7th, 2008

me and my vulture


 I used to have weekends.  I used to sit around lazing, not doing anything, maybe considering reading a book, and bagging that in favour of a nap on the sofa.

I clearly remember doing this.  Last week, or so, it was.  But now it must be a fond memory of idyllic times past, since the next several months are to be filled with delightful things such as having to go to 12th Night (dammit, had to cancel Plimoth trip), speaking to some interesting people about women and Jamestown, Gardiner's Yule event, and every weekend in between doing house finishing things at the farm.  

It's a good thing I can catch up on my sleep at work.

Speaking of sleep, I actually didn't really get any last night, so I'm a little incoherent (and a lot painful) this morning.  I'm considering packing in today entirely and starting over tomorrow.  Tormorrow, that's the ticket.  I'll have pictures, and information about the house, and a description of the ruff I've pinned together for 12th Night.

Oh, man, I still have some things to do before 12th Nitey nitey-ness.  My brain hurts.  At least I won't have to do anything all day except judge some scroll entries - which means I can drink if I want to (just not while I'm judging, I suppose).

Burble.  Burbleburbleburble.  Hmmph.  Nrrrghshlamburble.

I am so tired.